Harvest Moon

It was dark as I drove out of the daycare driveway. I am usually last, as it is, to pick up the kids, but the changing season and busy work schedule brought me to the pick up point well after the Sun had set.

It wasn't late, but it felt that way. I was tired, but felt good. It had been a good day. Hell, a good October...

I had a sort of strange confidence, more than usual, and a spring in my step. My handshakes were firmer. My jokes drew more laughs. Arbitrators were were seeing things my way, and well, the blog was really pretty good. (Good, at least, by Lounge standards)

The kids and I rushed down the interstate, singing songs and laughing, the dark silhouette of the tree line skimming silently by. And then, like a burst, it emerged, like a blazing orange cookie on the horizon. The Harvest Moon.

The sky lit up, like someone turned on a spot light above the freeway. Even the girl, wrapped up in the final "fee fie fiddly ei-oh" verse of I've Been Working on the Railroad exclaimed: "Daddy, the MOON!!"

It had been waxing for weeks, and was a brilliant behemoth in the inky night.

Time passes, though, and October has been chased away by the goblins and ghouls of All Hallows Eve. The November chill has set in, and the trees are finally giving up their last grasp of color.

The moon is but a sliver-like crescent today. Hollow. Frail.

I, too, seem to be moving a little slower, less likely to take a confrontational phone call, and feeling a little fat. Words are not coming quickly enough, and my mind is becoming soft and dull. Even my once witty quips have been falling flat.

Ebb and flow, I suppose. Waxing and waning. Cycles or circles, or whatever your chosen metaphor may be. I'm not worried, though, because the mojo will return. It always does. For now, I guess, I will sip scotch and sit by the fire to keep me warm under the moon-less night sky.